If you are new for the whole Hill-Billie thing and want to catch up this link will help:
> https://rentry.org/Hill-Billie
>Hill-Billie: The Mystery of the Night Burglar (/3)
>Grace stared at her sneakers, now caked in a new layer of grimy mud. The once-pristine white of the soles was a distant memory.
>This wasn't just dirt; it was a gooey, sucking, living thing that seemed determined to swallow her feet whole with every step.
>All because she had said "okay" to a mud-controlling girl who thought her family's history was worth getting stuck in the swampy ground for.
>Billie, however, was in her element. She moved with an easy, almost joyful rhythm, her bare feet splashing and squelching through the muck.
>She gestured grandly to the vast, muddy expanse around them.
>"Ain't this a beaut? You see this here mud, city gal? It's the same mud my great-great-grandpa, ol' Zebediah, won in a huntin' bet back in '32. Fella named Hemlock bet him his farm that he couldn't catch a ten-point buck with nothin' but a rusty nail and a pocketful of pecans."
>Grace just stared. Her brain, accustomed to facts and figures and logical deductions, short-circuited at the sheer absurdity of the story.
>A rusty nail and pecans? She had so many questions, but none of them felt worth asking.
>"Yep," Billie continued, hands on her hips, her voice full of a deep-rooted, almost sacred pride.
>"Ol' Zebediah outsmarted that ol' buck by lurin' it with the pecans and then usin' the nail to... well, let's just say it was a messy, glorious win. Point is," she said, her voice dropping a little, "this ol' farm, this here mud... it ain't just dirt. It's part of our family, you see. It's a part of me."
>Grace's internal monologue screamed. She thinks dirt is her family.
